


Working Benefits

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-16
Updated: 2006-05-16
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble x20, wherein Wesley stays late and Angel gets distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

A/N: Written for the lj community stagesoflove. Themes were five senses (sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste) and stages of arousal (desire, excitement, plateau, orgasm, resolution).

 

1\. In the eye  
He'd taken upon himself to show up in the coffee room lately. Not for the coffee, and certainly not for the company. He liked his solitude. Until the emptiness began to claw at him. He had no idea when that started, but somewhere along the time with Angel Investigations, he'd become addicted to the sight of people.

Most often, Cordelia would be there. He'd tried prevaricating, but she wasn't the reason. Eyes closed, her figure would fade from his mind's eye.

Open, and Wesley would sit there, reading, writing, scratching his temples or cleaning glasses.

And his eyes wouldn't forget.

* * *

2\. Be still my beating heart  
Wesley adjusted his glasses while balancing a cup of coffee and three folders on his lap. He'd grown quite attached to the coffee room couch, but it wasn't always the most convenient choice.

It was, however, the best choice, if one wanted to spend the evening indulging in caffeine, gruesome crime reports and the delicious feeling of being watched. For these purposes, it was more than expedient.

"You drink too much coffee."

"I beg to differ. In fact, I think I'd like some more," Wesley answered. Let Angel think it was just the drink that made his heart pound harder.

* * *

3\. No cheap thrill  
Coffee did wonderful things to the body. It jumpstarted and accelerated, and if you had well more than enough, maybe even trembled hands. Wesley entertained the thought of accidentally spilling some on his shirt. Might be worth the trouble if it earned him that abashed look.

Angel was a difficult man to throw off balance, but Wesley was learning. Something slightly out of character usually did it. Or a very hard tackle, but Wesley wasn't quite there yet.

These nights, he'd get that look most likely by catching Angel mid-stare. He barely dared to hope he'd seen desire flash by.

* * *

4\. The Game  
Wesley was wrong if he thought he'd get away from Angel's special brand of Ridiculous Overprotective Act, patent pending.

"Take another sip and you'll be swimming in it." Okay, wrong mental image, stupid too fast mouth. So it was time for damage control. "Remember, vampire? Your hands shake and I can practically see your heart from here."

Wesley quirked an eyebrow, but complied. Coffee was set down… and feet went up.

"Wesley?"

"Yes?"

"Sofa, shoes."

"Oh, excuse me." Wesley toed his shoes off and let them fall to the floor.

Sometimes Angel wondered who was trying to play whom here.

* * *

5\. Temptation  
Wesley read quietly as always. Angel had learned not to force idle chatter during these evenings, not that either of them needed any. Besides, pretending to brood was so much easier to pull off in silence.

But even in the absence of speech, there was a lot to listen to. He'd lean back and close his eyes, concentrating, and when he'd open his eyes again it'd be exactly like he heard it. Every shift of paper, the trails of absent-minded fingers on hair, the barely perceptible sound lips make when they part to smile.

Toes curling against the hand rest.

* * *

6\. Solitary motions  
"Tired, Angel?"

The vampire shook his head quickly.

"I can call it a night and …"

"That's all right, wasn't dozing off. You?" Angel looked with a mix of apprehension and anticipation, for what was anyone's guess. Nonetheless it sent a shiver up his neck, which he expertly hid with an exaggerated yawn and stretch combo.

Sitting up he found himself staring right at Angel, or rather his mid-section. Wesley had to swallow and blink so he'd _not_ glance any lower.

"Actually," Angel said as he sat down next to Wesley, "I'm getting curious about those files. They that exciting?"

* * *

7\. The air that I breathe  
Wesley could think of many exciting things in the general vicinity, but none of them were in that folder. Whereas most of them were slightly left, denting the pillow beside him.

Angel was definitely sitting closer than necessary, shifting and then _leaning_ forward. It was a testament to proper British upbringing that Wesley managed to sit still and not seize this opportunity.

Only then it occurred to him that's what it was. Angel was playing his game. As he tilted the opened folder there was another shift and thighs touching just so.

Wesley bid goodbye to the stiff upper lip.

* * *

8\. Whenever you're ready  
Unlike the easily startled characters in romance novels, Angel knew exactly how he got here. He had front row seats to every sign. There was the erratic drumming of Wesley's heart, the barely audible hitched breath, the obviously forced glance to the side.

He had known, recognized, pushed a little just to see how far the boundaries went. Further than he expected, Angel noted.

Thus the only thing that still surprised him was how fast Wesley had turned the tables on him.

After hours of listening Wesley's reactions, he concluded that kissing really did produce the nicest sounds so far.

* * *

9\. Wait  
Suddenly all urgency was gone. Before, and even at the moment Wesley leaned for the kiss, Angel had assumed they'd be rushing, all limbs and mouth.

Instead there was languid touches, excruciatingly tiny flicks of tongue on lips, heat against his body. Slowly it inched closer until it seeped into his skin, deeper, _inside_ yet only barely touching.

He'd also expected awkwardness. Well, next time Cordy started snarking about Wesley's lackluster technique he might have some objections.

Right now, all his objections concentrated on his skin. Or rather, the lack of Wesley's on his. Goddamn tease, that's what he was.

* * *

10\. Just out of reach  
It wasn't really a show of his enormous self-control that Wesley had kept the pace of their kissing so slow. Rather, it was the opposite.

Sometimes he wondered how clueless could a two hundred plus years old vampire be, what with all the super-heightened senses and oh yes, two hundred plus years. Considering, Wesley should be like glass, completely see-through, yet there they were, him ready to come with one word and the stupid lump of vampire… 

Or he could be just trying to save Wesley from the embarrassment. Possible, but not very likely.

But damn if it wasn't frustrating.

* * *

11\. Skin  
After a small eternity of stretched out kisses and wandering fingertips, Angel concluded that Wesley was still playing around. Maybe the bastard simply enjoyed tormenting him, but it was getting clear this wasn't going anywhere.

He had to do it, then. Winding his hands in Wesley's hair, Angel yanked and straddled his thighs. A short gasp was his reward, and he couldn't stop the growl in his throat.

There it was, hardness covered in soft cloth and radiating warmth and skin quivering under his palms as he rolled the fabric away. Just the touch was too much. But not enough.

* * *

12\. Underneath your clothes  
Somebody caught a clue, and it was about time.

Wesley had to calm his breathing against Angel's palms, pressed on his chest. Wesley was steady state, equilibrium, flat line, stable surface. He didn't sigh when Angel licked his clavicle, didn't twitch when bare skin brush against his, didn't throw his head back, eager and pliant when Angel's hand willed so.

He certainly did not moan and gasp as that same hand found the hard center of his desire.

That was neither fair nor sufficient. Angel wasn't getting the upper hand if Wesley had anything to say.

Sadly, he really didn't.

* * *

13\. Special  
As nice as it was to watch Wesley writhe, listen for tight gasps of breath and feel the heat of his body as it rose into drops of sweat, it didn't beat the heady scent of arousal that assaulted him the moment he got the zipper down.

There was purity in that, Angel thought, that no amount of acting could bring. This was the proof he'd looked for, that this wasn't just some weird play or a bet of who'd back down first. The smell of lust was just as concrete to him as the straining erection against his fingers.

* * *

14\. Headshots  
The hardness in his hold beckoned him. Getting Wesley off right now was inching towards the top in Angel's list of enjoyable activities regardless of his own need. This he could give, a moment of petit mort, and he wanted to be the one to bring it.

He wanted Wesley's skin between his teeth. He wanted to hear the blood rush in a frantic crescendo of moans escaped from Wesley's lips. He wanted to make a mess and smell it on his fingers for the next few days.

Screw the inching, though; this was the only item on the list.

* * *

15\. Good vibrations  
After a few futile attempts to reciprocate Wesley concluded that it wasn't expected of him. Angel had his hands full and that he had no objections to. Well, maybe he'd like to fill something more than his hands.

Angel was sucking and nibbling down his neck, sliding down on his lap, and it occurred to him that he could just raise his hands and pull Angel down right where he wanted him.

He got as far as touching one shoulder when Angel said: "Want me to blow you?"

"God yes."

He wondered why that look alone didn't make him come.

* * *

16\. Eat the music  
To disturb a master at work, Wesley thought, was blasphemy. But as Angel's mouth caressed him in most ingenious ways he couldn't stop it. His hips moved on their own volition, seeking out more and getting so close, so close it tickled his insides but wouldn't allow him to...

And then, hands gripping dark hair pushing down faster and more hands squeezing and pulling down and up against his shaft and he could almost taste his release in the back of Angel's throat and wasn't that stark raving mad or just his brains on bliss or just coming, down, deeper.

* * *

17\. Intoxication  
He was all warm and quivering in Angel's arms, heat and thirst pouring from every square inch. The tension of his muscles as they wound tighter and tighter was thick, so thick it was sticking to his tongue, skirting over the layer of slickness. Wesley's blood sang in a low thrumming beat and Angel let his mouth dance to the rhythm.

The pace quickened until it was roaring and Angel licked the first sweet drops of impending release. Just a small taste that teased, salt and sugar and tang that clung to his palate.

He wouldn't be teased for long.

* * *

18\. If I fell  
Coming down from this high required effort Wesley wasn't sure he could expend. His head kept swimming, back and forth, and his whole body was still twitching in aftershocks.

Angel was rising up now, nose trailing against his skin and Wesley found his own hands still gripping his hair. Opening his eyes he saw nothing but unfocused light mass. Oh, his head was still thrown back, leaving him staring at the ceiling while Angel, oh Angel was nibbling and sucking on his neck now and he'd need to find a turtleneck tomorrow for sure…

Coming down was falling and crashing.

* * *

19\. Straight lines  
He'd always been rather atypical in so many ways. Wesley figured he was missing out on some quintessential human experience of life flashing before his eyes, but considering the circumstances that would have been quite trite.

Instead he was contemplating whether to put up a token resistance or perhaps just twist his head a bit more to the side, let Angel have a little more room to work on. It would be only poetic to die like this, spent and fulfilled in an entirely pleasant way.

But then again, Angel wouldn't indulge him in so many ways in one evening.

* * *

20\. Devour  
When the unmistakable surge of fear hit him Angel found some things didn't require conscious effort at all. Showering Wesley in kisses, gently pulling tiny marks up, was one of those.

The fear disappeared as fast as it came, and soon after Angel managed to tear himself away from that beautiful neckline.

He hadn't even tried to break the skin, he'd have to use fangs for that and he didn't do that shit anymore. No, a taste of that fear was enough to stop him, but then Wesley had to _stop_ and turn like that…

This could never happen again.


End file.
